Julia P.

Picky Eater

I am a picky eater. I don’t like vegetables, or fruits, or cheese, or meat. I like noodles, and I like peanut butter sandwiches, and frankly, I think that is enough. One day, my mom gave me this whole lecture on “having a more diverse diet.” I didn’t think anything of it, because I knew she would never go through with it. But tomorrow night, she told me I will have to eat some sausage, against my will! That’s insane! I only eat noodles and peanut butter sandwiches, and the occasional glass of milk! Why is she doing this to me?I need to hatch a plan, and soon. I thought, I could pretend to be sick, and then I could eat nothing for dinner and sneak a sandwich later that night, but my mom would never believe that. Maybe I could play hide and seek with my brother and stash some noodles and peanut butter in the attic, then hide there for two days so I won’t have to eat it. Or I could walk around the neighborhood in disguise so no one knows it is me and I can just wait it out. Who knows.​

Wait. I just thought of something, something priceless. I will make thirty peanut butter sandwiches and twenty bowls of noodles. I put them in a storage container and move into a hotel by sneaking money from my mom’s wallet. I get luxury and good food. The perfect plan.All I need to do is make the food, and get my mom’s credit card. The food part is easy. I wait until my mom goes to work and I just… make it. The credit card is a little trickier. I had to wait until it was three o’clock in the morning and sneak downstairs. I saw her wallet on the kitchen table. So close… but then, I thought of the dog. If she heard me and woke up, her barking would wake up my mom! That would be a disaster. I carefully creep past my dog’s crate praying she won’t wake up and I snatch the credit card.I quickly and quietly rush back upstairs to my room and hide the card in my pillow case. The next morning, my mom goes to work, and I catch a ride to the hotel. I rent my room and head up.I stole, lied, and cheated. But don’t judge me, I was just protecting my taste buds. It was a lot of work, but I did not have to eat sausage. Mission accomplished.

Pet Peeves

Pet Peeves. Funny thing, aren’t they? Actually, never mind. Not funny. Not funny at all. I am generally a calm person. If you crashed my car, I would be mad, but calm. If you spilled paint all over a brand new white carpet, again I would be mad, but still be calm. That’s why I am so good at my job. Chaos breaks out sometimes and I can get everything under control. I have a reputation of being the calm one, too. If my coworkers saw me freak out, I don’t know what they’d even think. I can deal with a lot of pressure and craziness, but little things can be ten times more annoying. Once in while, there will be one little thing that sends me over the edge. Like today.It was a hard day at work. I just needed some energy to keep me going because I had barely gotten any sleep last night. I stopped by a café and coffee shop to get some coffee.I ordered a black coffee and added cream, and sat down at a table. The guy sitting at the table next to me was talking nonstop. He was talking, and talking, and talking! He would NOT shut up. He talked loud, too. It was like he wanted the whole restaurant to know about his epic adventure to the dry cleaners from earlier that day!As annoying as that was, I could deal. But what really threw me off was that when his BLT sandwich arrived at his table, he took a big ol’ bite and KEPT TALKING. He did not bother to chew, or wait until he had fully consumed the food to continue his obnoxious talking. It felt like he was trying to bomb his friend’s plate with bits of chewed up iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and bacon. It made the grossest splat noise when it landed on the table. Talk, talk, splat, talk splat, splat, splat, talk, chew, splat, splat, SPLAT! He continued doing this for several minutes. I was on the verge of blowing up at him in front of the entire place. And then, a particularly large piece of bacon covered in saliva, tomato juice, and lettuce came flying out of his mouth and landed on my table. And this was no splat, this was a KABOOM!That was it. I tried to contain myself, I really did, but pet peeves always get the best of people. Even when they are as calm as me. I shouted “Are you kidding me right now?! Sir, for the past ten minutes, I have been trying not to lose my appetite because you cannot chew with your mouth closed! You have been talking and talking – very loudly I might add – with your mouth full of food! Do you have any idea how disgusting that is for people who actually have manners? If you want to cover your table in chewed up food, do that. But do NOT get one of your pieces of chewed up food onto MY table!”He looked at me, shocked. He looked embarrassed and everyone in the restaurant had gone silent. He didn’t know what to say or do.I rolled my eyes, grabbed my purse and left. As if just to add insult to injury, a group of my co-workers and even people with a higher position than me at work were there, and saw the whole thing. Why did I do that?! Why did something as stupid as bad manners make me cause a scene in a restaurant? Why, why, why? I’ll give you the answer. Two words: Pet. Peeves.

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